


tie it up tight

by fyredancer



Series: entwined [2]
Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Domestic Fluff, Family Issues, Government Experimentation, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Top Wang Yi Bo/Bottom Xiao Zhan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25496440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: Thirst traps, Lego used as diversion, and late evening stir fry are the accompaniment to this tale of tentacle porn with feelings, fluff, and coming to terms with the past that Yibo thought was long since buried.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan
Series: entwined [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847032
Comments: 64
Kudos: 370





	tie it up tight

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [ unfurl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340240). Yibo is a C-class mutant whose mutation is eight accessory limbs, and he and Xiao Zhan are in an established relationship that started in “unfurl.” Even more feelings, and just as many tentacles!
> 
> Thank you to xelloss_poo for the speedy beta turnaround and staunch comma wrangling as always, and xinnieh for lobbing all those bunnies—and lobbying for the accessory appendage agenda.
> 
> I commissioned some art that I wanted to share, but it doesn’t have a watermark haha, and I didn’t sort out a hosting solution, so that remains on my hard drive for me and Xinxin to enjoy, lol.

Xiao Zhan is in the middle of a photo shoot when Yibo sends him one of the most blatant thirst traps he’s ever inflicted on him in a professional setting.

He’s on a brief break while they re-set some elements of the shoot. He has to give the room a quick glance to make sure no one else has any angle to see his screen. He bites his lip and allows himself to drink his fill of the pic: Yibo has water splashing up onto his face and front, and his white shirt is nearly transparent over the hint of a nipple and his washboard abs. His face isn’t visible, tilted down possibly to shield against the spray, but Xiao Zhan would recognize those hands anywhere. And of course, the abs he rubbed his face against only that morning as he slid down them on his way to…

Xiao Zhan bites his lip harder and shoots back a quick text to his lover.

 **XZ** : _wtf Yibo, that is not okay to send me when I’m working_

He looks at his own stern text and adds in parentheses, to soften it:

 **XZ** : _(but I love that you send me thirst trap pics like you have to try and reel me in)_

 **WYB:** _so you’re thirsty for me, right?_

Xiao Zhan looks at that and the first thought that crosses his mind is _you little shit_ ; he opens his camera and takes a pic of his unamused face with a single raised eyebrow and sends it back to Yibo. He was not going to give into his partner’s vanity, not to mention libido, while he was on site for the day. …He was realistic enough not to promise himself he could hold out forever.

The next photo that Yibo sends is a shirtless selfie, snapped right that moment, and he’s got a brow raised too. His smile is smug.

Xiao Zhan could cry. He looks good enough to eat and he has to be home already if he’s taking shirtless selfies with the brick wall of their hallway behind him. He’s picked a flattering angle for the light, of course. 

**XZ** : _please stop trying to make me horny; I’m on a break from this photo shoot and I can’t go back at half mast_

Yibo replies instantly, **WYB:** _can’t relate always horny_ and Xiao Zhan gives a soft but audible snort, about to text back.

“Xiao Zhan? Are you all right?” A worried production assistant is peering at him over his phone and Xiao Zhan tilts it closer to his body. 

“Huh?” is his instinctive, unflattering response.

“You looked very intense and you were typing very fast!” she squeaks, looks mortified, and takes a step back as though she realizes she’s crossed a boundary. “I only wanted to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Oh, well, yeah…” Xiao Zhan swallows. _Yeah! I’m definitely not getting thirst texts from my hot boyfriend!_ He puts on something resembling a smile. He glances at his screen and wishes he hadn’t. “I’m fine!” His voice is an octave higher. _He definitely did NOT just send a tentacles-out pic!_

“Okay,” the production assistant says, looking dubious.

“Bathroom?” Xiao Zhan manages, and she nods, looking relieved to be of service. She gestures toward one side of the room.

“Around the corner to the left.”

Xiao Zhan nods and makes a beeline for it. He’s not going to have enough time to work one out, not to mention it would make him too flushed, but he is definitely going to splash some cold water on his collarbones and maybe his lower abdomen for good measure.

 **XZ** : _you’d better keep yourself busy, my break is almost over and I won’t be home for hours_

That earns him a quick response that is only a zipper’s worth away from being a dick pic, but the tentacle curled at the waistband of Yibo’s pants stands in for it.

He’s going to get Yibo back for this, later.

Much later, when he’s starving and tired because the photo shoot dragged on longer than expected, he stumbles a little on his way out of the car and up the lift. He digs his phone out, unlocks it, and turns it off with a hair-trigger finger when he remembers the last photo he received on WeChat. He’s pretty sure he closed the app, but even remembering that pic of Yibo, his teal-blue tendrils coiled around his ripped torso, one curved like it was beckoning to the camera, is getting him heated.

He can’t allow himself to relax his vigilance, but in private, Yibo and his eight accessory appendages are all his, and all horny for him. Hence the random thirst trap pics he’s subjected to whenever they’re apart.

When Xiao Zhan pushes the front door of their home open, toeing his shoes off at the door, he half-expects to get jumped three steps in.

Instead, Yibo is nowhere near the spacious living room that opens out from the narrow front hall. He’s not in the kitchen, heating up their leftovers so they can grab a bite together. When Xiao Zhan pads into the bedroom on bare feet, unbuttoning his shirt, Yibo isn’t even in there, waiting and riling himself up as he awaits his return—and that was the most likely option.

“Yibo?” Xiao Zhan calls, checking his phone. Has Yibo gone out without telling him? That’s not possible—they never do that.

Although Yibo was released by the CPF Special Services Mutation Division over a decade ago, his mutation classified as ‘not useful enough’ for service, sometimes Xiao Zhan wakes in a cold sweat worked up at the thought the CPF will come take Yibo away, going through old files and realizing they’ve mis-classed him.

Yibo’s eight accessory appendages are semi-sentient. It’s something he managed to keep from the Special Services, canny enough to realize it was worth keeping to himself. They’re strong, fast, and beautiful. Though, of course, the Special Services wouldn’t care about that last bit.

The prospect that he could be pulled in for re-evaluation all this time later is the stuff of Xiao Zhan’s nightmares, though Yibo doesn’t seem to worry about it. Still, he is meticulous about checking in regarding his whereabouts, making sure Xiao Zhan knows where he is or plans to be at all time.

“In here,” Yibo’s voice comes back from down the hall.

Xiao Zhan blinks. That sounds like Yibo is in the spare room. He quirks a brow and finishes unbuttoning his shirt, hastening down the hall.

He’s not shy about flaunting his body to Yibo, especially after all the back and forth over WeChat earlier. Turnabout is due.

When he walks through the door, he has to shake his head and look twice. Yibo is sitting on the floor in the middle of the spare room, surrounded by the rainbow array of his latest new massive Lego kit. He’s in the middle of piecing a couple of complicated parts together while a few of his accessory appendages nose through the remaining ones, sorting, pulling some of them closer.

Xiao Zhan is torn between being endeared and indignant. “Hey,” he complains, leaning against the door frame with an elbow, running his other hand down his shirt. He adds pointedly, “I’m home.”

Yibo glances up. “Hey, what’s up.”

Xiao Zhan makes a noise in his throat as he walks through the door. He’s a little frustrated and a bit baffled. Yibo’s sacral tentacles reach out for him but the rest are busy sorting and reaching for Lego pieces.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan whines, and when he hears his own tone he has to haul himself short and remind himself that Yibo is an autonomous adult who doesn’t owe him sex no matter how much he teased him earlier. He gives a little sigh and walks closer. The second he’s in range, one sacral tendril wraps around his thigh and the other one goes to his hip. Xiao Zhan puts a hand over that one fondly.

“You told me to keep myself busy,” Yibo reminds him. “Is it my fault I went and did what you asked me to do?”

“No,” Xiao Zhan says, but sighs anyhow. “Fine, I guess I’ll just…help with the Lego kit, then.” He takes a step closer and the sacral accessory appendages tighten, the one on his hip going to his waist for all the world like a possessive lover.

Yibo turns his face up to give him the most innocent eyes. There’s no way he is anywhere close to as pure and naïve as that look implies. “But, Zhan-ge, you’re helping right now.” He raises his chin to indicate the two tendrils currently feeling Xiao Zhan up.

“This is not the help I planned on offering,” Xiao Zhan says, looking pointedly down at the two teal appendages wrapped around him. One of them has shifted from his waist to rub across the top of his ass. He flushes a little as he pictures some of the things those tendrils probably want to do to him.

Truthfully, he’s not averse. It’s just that usually Yibo is more of a participant.

Yibo slants an amused but moderately insolent look up at him. “Well, you’re keeping the horny ones occupied.”

“Like you’re not horny, Wang Yibo,” Xiao Zhan says, stroking along the tendril curled around his thigh. 

“Eh, it’s 25% low-key horny, 75% want to finish this Lego kit.” His attention is still focused on the Lego parts in his hand.

The thing of it is, Xiao Zhan knows it’s true. He’s been with Yibo for going on three years now, and he’s intimately acquainted with his man and his eight accessory limbs.

He has long since learned he can rank how horny Yibo is based on how many accessory appendages reach out and wrap around him when Xiao Zhan is in proximity. The baseline horny level is a minimum of one tendril at all times.

When Xiao Zhan first noticed, he’d remarked, _“Wow, Yibo, so you’re always at least a little horny?”_

 _“I’m always at least a little horny for you,”_ Yibo had corrected. _“And I’m still young, ge.”_

That earned him an eyeroll and a disgusted face. _“I’m not an old man!”_ he’d complained. Yibo had responded with one of his cackling laughs and more tendrils had converged on him, trying to strip him naked.

That revelation had ended satisfactorily.

Unlike now, where it seems Xiao Zhan is going to have to either disengage and go take care of himself, or sit around and let a couple of eager teal tentacles grope him for the next hour or so while Yibo finishes his Lego kit. He tends to become single-minded once he’s focusing on assembly.

Xiao Zhan fizzles over that for a moment and tries to faceplant himself into the nearest wall. The two horny tentacles tighten on him and drag him away before he can do that much.

He sighs, frustrated. So he’s not allowed to self-flagellate, either.

He regards Yibo for a long moment, noting the way he’s completely focused on connecting a couple of complicated-looking pieces, and gives a rueful exhale. Xiao Zhan is still feeling the build-up of a few hours’ worth of anticipation, despite how tired he was. He thinks about easing his zipper down. That’s not exactly fair, but then again, he got _three_ thirst trap photos when he was at work.

Now he feels like he’s being punished for the shoot running long, even though Yibo doesn’t play like that.

"I can go make dinner," he offers quietly.

The teal tendrils grasp him more closely, attempting to haul him a step nearer to Yibo, and Xiao Zhan conceals a grin.

"It won't take me that long, ge," Yibo replies, angling a coy eye upward. "Are you feeling neglected? You can keep those two busy until I'm done."

Xiao Zhan's brows raise. He suspects from Yibo's tone and general attitude that he's really not expecting him to agree. He's expecting a huff, perhaps for him to wriggle free and stalk off to sulk in front of the television. So he leans in, puts his hand to the sacral tentacle on his waist, and unzips his pants.

The eager tendril barely waits for him to get the zipper down far enough before it's burrowing into his pants, and he gasps as it rubs against his cock from outside his underwear, pressing down next to it. The tip manages to work its way down below the head of his cock and Xiao Zhan pulls in a slow, lush breath as the slide of tendril against cock makes it begin to firm up. The tip of that tendril is more flexible than a finger and it swirls around, caressing his cock through the fabric.

"Nn..." Xiao Zhan lifts a hand to his mouth, reaching with his free hand to skim along the still-exposed part of the accessory appendage buried in his pants. He's aware that starting to get hard from only this much might make him easy, but it's like a conditioned response. Even since before they were together, he's found the tendrils to be sexual, and sexy, and they've certainly been eager for him ever since they _got_ together.

The sacral tentacle curls its tip around the head of his cock and starts stroking him through his underwear and the other lifts up from its grip on his thigh to trail into the crack of his ass, pushing boldly down his underwear to touch skin. He gasps again as the tendril slithers down between his cheeks to stroke across his hole. He grabs at it, but it doesn’t seek to press into him dry. It simply noses back and forth with a light touch.

His grip shifts into a stroking sort of caress instead. Xiao Zhan presses his lips together. He wants to call it something; he’s tried before to name all eight of Yibo’s accessory appendages, but it didn’t catch on even if he thought it was impolite not to address them properly when they’re intimate. The attempt at naming them all had bemused Yibo, who simply thought of them by their corresponding chakra location and which side of him it curved around.

The names hadn’t worked out because Xiao Zhan can’t tell them apart when he’s not facing them or Yibo directly, and Yibo had flatly rejected any kind of labeling system.

 _“No, Zhan-ge, you can’t make little hats for them,”_ Yibo had told him, and Xiao Zhan had to concede defeat at that point. Anything that might get caught on the sockets that housed them when they retracted was not allowed. Color-coding could have been useful, though.

The tendrils didn’t seem to mind their namelessness; they were responsive enough to his touch, and each and every noise they wrung out of him.

A solar plexus tentacle lifts up from sorting blocky larger pieces and weaves toward him. Yibo makes a ‘huh’ sort of hum but keeps his eyes downturned on his Lego kit as the third accessory appendage makes its way to Xiao Zhan, stroking up his exposed front. The solar plexus tendril finds his nipple and rubs across it like an affectionate creature.

He cups his hand over the tentacle snuggled up around his cock, pressing it up against him. It’s a teasing sort of pressure, there’s no leverage and it’s not actually wrapped around the head of his cock, only nestled up against it. The sacral tentacle behind him rubs insistently over his perineum and the one in front curls possessively around his cock, stroking the sensitive spot under the head. When he moans this time it’s a little louder. Yibo’s left solar plexus tentacle drops a Lego piece and makes a beeline for him.

Xiao Zhan chuckles and reaches out a hand for it as it approaches, which the solar plexus tendril immediately twines around. Well, now he’s got Yibo fifty percent horny and he’ll take those odds.

When he looks over at Yibo, his head is still bent over the kit but he’s smirking.

Xiao Zhan ups the ante. He unzips his pants the rest of the way and lets them start to slide down his thighs, taking one step closer to where Yibo is assembling his kit. All of the tendrils that are on him do a brief, delighted frisson; the solar plexus tentacle on his nipple strokes harder, the sacral tendril on his cock wraps around him fully and starts tenderly jerking him off. The one behind him strokes his balls, undulating in the cleft of his rear, making him shudder.

Both of the heart tendrils desert their parts sorting and home in on him. Xiao Zhan licks his lips and parts them as one tendril nudges beside his mouth. Yibo is already seventy-five percent horny and Xiao Zhan has a feeling he’s sticking to his Lego assembly out of principle now.

He takes one of Yibo’s heart tentacles into his mouth with a sinful moan, not bothering to stifle himself. 

Yibo’s head lifts. He sits for a moment, a Lego piece in each hand, mouth open as he watches Xiao Zhan getting stroked and pumped and held and fondled by six of his eight tentacles. 

The Lego pieces drop to the carpet. The throat chakra tentacles head straight for Xiao Zhan, taking him by the shoulders and reeling him in. At the same time, Yibo pushes himself up from the floor and they meet halfway, the heart tendril pulling out from Xiao Zhan’s mouth in time for Yibo’s lips to crash against his.

Xiao Zhan doesn’t bother gloating as Yibo’s tentacles sweep him up and against Yibo’s body. They make out frantically on their way up the hall. As far as he’s concerned, they’re both getting what they want so they’ve both won.

Yibo stumbles against the door frame. Xiao Zhan laughs as it jars both of them; the accessory limbs clutch him protectively close. Yibo just swears, shaking his head a little. His expression is a little dazed as their eyes meet.

“Take me to bed,” Xiao Zhan invites, low and throaty. He strokes over Yibo’s chest, his stomach, and accessory appendages caress and tighten across his thighs and the underside of his rear.

“That’s the plan,” Yibo replies, amusement surfacing along with the glint of hunger. He walks them over to the bed and his heart chakra tentacles strip the shirt right off of Xiao Zhan on the way, plucking it free without tearing it. They’re dexterous enough to fold it if they want, but they and Yibo are far too invested in finishing the process of stripping him, rendering both of them completely bare of clothes. Yibo puts a knee on the bed and three teal limbs curl around Xiao Zhan, tugging him down with him.

He lifts up into Yibo’s kiss. He’s not quite sure if it’s Yibo’s hands that finish taking his pants off or the sacral limbs; maybe a mix of both. The end result is what’s important. The two of them end up naked in bed, a couple of accessory appendages eagerly turn down the bed for them, and Yibo is on top of him, pressing him into the sheets. He closes in on him with a hand on his face and intensity in his eyes.

Xiao Zhan is already biting his lip, sweating like crazy. One of Yibo’s tendrils is wrapped around his cock, working him slowly; two more have him spread open already. Two more are looped under his arms holding him down, like this isn’t exactly where he wants to be.

Yibo reaches for the lube and smooths it over a tendril that presents itself eagerly for duty. He gives Xiao Zhan a crooked grin, but Xiao Zhan only bites his lip harder over the noise that wants to escape.

When Yibo returns to him, it’s for kisses; deep, intense kisses that make his toes curl and he arches up into it. He’s whimpering into that kiss in the next instant as the lubed tentacle nudges behind his balls. At its slimmest, all of Yibo’s tendrils are only a little thicker than his fingers, but his fingers are not small. Still, the tendril presses into him without resistance or delay.

Sometimes Yibo will prep him with his fingers, but usually he lets a tendril or two play with him and Xiao Zhan is very much into it. He remembers when they were first getting started, when Yibo could barely believe he wanted him, let alone all of the lovely accessory limbs that came as part of the package. From the very start he was into treating all of his tendrils as every bit the sexual partner as Yibo and he thinks that’s one of the reasons Yibo was able to open himself up to him so completely.

He gasps and lurches up into the kiss as the tendril penetrates him. It’s long and slim and moves into him seeking out his prostate; it’s way weirder than being fingered, but feels so amazingly good that it’s something he’s come to crave over the time they’ve been together.

“Yibo!” he exclaims when Yibo moves down his neck to kiss him. He likes to bite, which made Xiao Zhan tease him about character bleed from his Lan Wangji role at first. Unlike that esteemed cultivator, though, Yibo is careful about where he marks him, and he latches onto the hollow below his collarbone as he licks and sucks and moves his hips up and down until his growing erection bumps along the crease between Xiao Zhan’s groin and thigh.

Sometimes he just likes to rub off there, letting a tendril or two fuck Xiao Zhan while another jerks him off. That’s more of a rare act for them, usually after a round or two—when they have the time, Yibo really likes to get his big dick inside him and Xiao Zhan is a little embarrassed at how much he loves it.

Yibo was the first for _that_ , and Xiao Zhan is honestly glad he’s got nothing else to compare because he can’t imagine anything more scorching hot than how they are together. 

_You’ve ruined me,_ he told Yibo after their first time, and stopped himself short of saying _take responsibility_ , but Yibo has.

Yibo stretches up and gives him a soft, fond grin before taking his mouth. Xiao Zhan opens up to him right away, losing himself in the press of their tongues, the way Yibo’s thumb strokes over the mark he’s just made, and the dick getting long and hard against his stomach.

“Ah…ahh, Yibo…” He would reach his hands down to grab Yibo’s ass, but two tentacles have him restrained against the bed. He’s not sure if Yibo has directed them to do it or they’re taking initiative.

“You want another one?” Yibo asks intently, lifting up enough to make eye contact. He reaches down, his big hand palming his ass, and Xiao Zhan shudders as a finger presses beside the slick tendril.

He hesitates, and Yibo takes it for a yes. He lubes up another tentacle and resumes kissing him as that second one joins its sibling, sliding into him with care.

Xiao Zhan cries out and spasms as they begin moving into him in counterpoint; one surges inward as the other withdraws, then they trade off, alternating. He can’t concentrate on the kissing anymore. His mouth goes slack under Yibo’s as two tendrils work in and out of him.

Yibo kisses his jaw. Through the pleasure sparking up through his body and cascading through his groin and core Xiao Zhan is aware of Yibo’s dick where it’s being stroked against his, of the tendril unwrapping from his own cock to wind around both of them, binding them together. He shakes and arches up and digs his feet into the bedspread; he’s close, so close…

And the tendrils retract from his body so swiftly he’s left gasping as Yibo’s hand closes around the base of Xiao Zhan’s cock and puts firm pressure on it.

"Yibo!!" he exclaims, trying vainly to arch up against the hand Yibo has on his hip. 

Yibo just looks down at him with a faint smirk and reaches for the lube. "You didn't really think I was going to let you come without me, did you, ge?"

"S-sometimes," is all Xiao Zhan can retort, trying to strain upward, but it's a weak comeback. The corners of his eyes itch and he can't wipe away what are probably tears, his body's involuntary response to being jerked back from the edge. Sometimes Yibo will make him come first, then get inside him and fuck him for what feels like hours until he's hard again and they reach the edge together. And sometimes he'll do that—bring him off first—push into him and come inside him, and stay in him until he's pumping him enthusiastically through round two to make him come again.

Xiao Zhan has gotten a lot better about diligent sleeping habits, because with Yibo in his life, he needs all the rest he can get.

"Lift him up," Yibo instructs. It's an unnecessary verbal instruction because the sacral tendrils don't need to be told, so it's for Xiao Zhan's benefit.

He moans as he's hoisted up enough to make the angle better for entry and two solar plexus tentacles curl helpfully beneath his lower back for added support. That almost makes him smile. His attention is yanked back to Yibo as his lover skims a broad hand on Xiao Zhan’s inner thigh and presses two fingers into him, testing him.

“Please,” Xiao Zhan begs, too desperate to be coy or try to draw it out.

Yibo nods and takes his fingers out, wrapping his hand around his dick and tapping the head of it against Xiao Zhan’s hole. He pushes the tip in a little, enough to stretch him out, before pulling back. That makes Xiao Zhan whine and squeeze his eyes shut. He’s not going to beg again, though. He just has to exercise the smallest amount of patience and Yibo will give them both what they want.

He sits back for a second to reach for the lube again to coat his cock, then nudges his dick under Xiao Zhan’s balls, teasing him with it.

Xiao Zhan really wants to whimper, but he bites his lip on it. Yibo was teasing him earlier with thirst traps; now he’s teasing him because Xiao Zhan successfully got him to abandon his nearly completed Lego kit. At some level, it’s always a competition for Yibo. Even this, seeing if he can make Xiao Zhan keen for it, is a small test of wills.

At last, Yibo makes a low noise and pushes the head of his cock inside. Xiao Zhan’s eyes widen and he breathes a little faster. The tendrils keeping him spread open and elevated flex on him, going tighter around his thighs. One of the solar plexus tentacles rubs the underside of his back and Xiao Zhan gives a small shudder.

“Yibo!” The sound is torn out of him, and Yibo grins down at him, cheerful and pleased.

“Zhan-ge,” he responds, a victorious hum. He lowers himself over Xiao Zhan on one stripped-wiry arm, pushing into him, guiding his cock until he’s most of the way in. Then he braces himself above Xiao Zhan and dips for a kiss as he bottoms out.

The duo of sensation is enough to make him weak. He meets Yibo’s tongue eagerly, though, licking up against his mouth as Yibo settles his weight on him, letting him get used to the penetration. He kisses him for a moment longer, does a little push-up, then starts to fuck into him with deep, steady snaps of his hips.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan moans; apparently, it’s the only sound he’s capable of. Yibo’s throat chakra tendrils coil under his knees and hoist Xiao Zhan’s legs higher as Yibo keeps fucking into him.

This is the kind of treatment no other lover can match. Aside from his feelings, which have bound them together more tightly with each passing year, no one else could possibly meet this level of complete and total servicing of his body. Xiao Zhan is propped up, spread open, and he doesn’t even have to hold his legs up himself or hike them over Yibo’s strong shoulders as Yibo drills him into the mattress.

Yibo’s body slaps against his and Xiao Zhan tries to tilt his hips up to meet it, but he’s completely at the whims of the teal limbs wrapped around him. He’s not often immobilized like this, utterly at Yibo’s mercy, but when he is, Yibo takes care to make him come hard.

Xiao Zhan can feel it building up a long way before he’s actually getting there. He was close before Yibo backed him off and the arousal simmers deep in his belly as Yibo pumps into him with maddeningly steady thrusts. He’s big enough to nudge his prostate from the right angle, but the teal tentacles have him canted up in such a way that he doesn’t quite hit it. On purpose, Xiao Zhan is sure. He moans with frustration but at the same time, it feels so good he doesn’t want it to ever stop. He wants Yibo to fuck him into infinity.

He’s sweating _so much_ as Yibo keeps fucking him, he’s either going to pass out or need to be dragged into the shower after this. He thinks he might be crying a little, too, just from the sheer intensity of the situation. He’s on the most incredible plateau, Yibo’s big dick is moving inside him and the sound of their bodies meeting is absolutely filthy and wonderful, and if they can keep going like this, he almost…it’s there, he just needs a little more…

Yibo’s sacral tentacles shift him into a different angle and Yibo fucks down into him with hard, driving thrusts.

Xiao Zhan cries out as he hits it, the head of his dick dragging across his prostate. He can’t reach for his own cock but he wants to, his muscles tense, and the tendrils pinning his arms down give him a soothing flex, sliding up and down his biceps before holding him tight.

“You want to come, Zhan-ge?” Yibo asks, and all Xiao Zhan can do is nod in helpless desperation. He’s definitely squeezing out some tears now. “What do you say?”

“Please,” Xiao Zhan whispers. He lifts his chin, wanting a kiss.

Yibo obliges him, lowering his head and stilling for a moment as he takes his mouth the way he’s been fucking him: forceful, deep. His tongue thrusts in and Xiao Zhan takes it gladly.

Yibo’s hand goes to his cock. He could have a tendril do it; it would be easier, but he’s made Xiao Zhan really work for it and he likes to reward him with the clasp of his shapely fingers around Xiao Zhan’s crimson-red erection.

His hips stutter into motion again. With a few deep snaps of his hips and the demanding pull of his hand, Xiao Zhan is crying out under him and coming so hard his vision whites out. He’s held in a secure and loving embrace as Yibo keeps surging into him, the insistent movement of his body quickening as he chases his orgasm.

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo gasps out, then a small but fervent, “ _Xingan_.”

Xiao Zhan aches to hold him; his entire body yearns for Yibo. All he can do is lie pliant as Yibo seizes his waist and fucks into him with the last few shallow, fast thrusts that mean he’s right there. He tenses his ass down helpfully and Yibo gasps, then comes.

The tendrils unwind from him slowly, letting him down onto the bed, then curl up around and against him in a loose but loving embrace as Yibo settles atop him at first, then shifts them onto their sides.

Xiao Zhan slides his arms around Yibo and holds him in a tight embrace. He strokes a hand up into Yibo’s nape.

He can tell from the way Yibo has faceplanted into his neck that he’s utterly spent, too.

“I love you,” Xiao Zhan murmurs, fond. He’s more vocal about it, but Yibo shows him in about four dozen different ways how much he cares about him, and he’s quick with pet names.

Xingan is reserved for bed, though, and Yibo has never said it outside of that intimacy.

He strokes Yibo as he comes back to him and the accessory limbs pet lazily over them both.

“Did I get you a little worked up?” Xiao Zhan teases lightly. That level of intensity is usually reserved for when they’ve spent days or even weeks apart.

Their schedules will always be a delicate dance of negotiations. Xiao Zhan tries to take on less commitments when Yibo’s is particularly packed, but Yibo is always in demand now.

Yibo hums against his neck, noncommittal. 

“We can go finish your Lego kit now,” Xiao Zhan suggests.

Yibo makes a disgruntled noise and reaches down to grip his ass. “We can do that later.” He pushes his fingers down to where they’re still joined, rubbing them back and forth over the rim and making Xiao Zhan squirm and crowd against him. It’s too much; he’s come too hard to want to keep going. He thinks even Yibo has probably come too hard, for a change.

“Want to just lie here for a while, then?”

Yibo’s arms and accessory limbs all tighten around him and that’s pretty much his answer. Xiao Zhan chuckles and settles his head on the pillow. When Yibo pulls back to look at him, his eyes are clear and there’s a faint smile on his lips.

“I was a little grumpy,” he admits. “When you were late. Sorry for taking it out on you.”

Xiao Zhan scrunches his nose up. “You didn’t,” he objects. “It was totally fair of you to get wrapped up in something else, you know. I don’t expect you to necessarily want sex the instant I get home just because you wanted sex earlier.”

Yibo’s smile widens a little. “But you already know I always want sex, Zhan-ge.”

Xiao Zhan snickers. He doesn’t even need to answer that. It’s demonstrably true. So long as Xiao Zhan is near him, Yibo is always at least somewhat horny.

“Me putting it off is just punishing both of us,” Yibo concludes.

Xiao Zhan presses a brief kiss on him. “It’s okay, there was still a sexy outcome.”

“I did want to finish putting that Lego kit together,” Yibo says, his voice a little mournful. “But having sex with Zhan-ge is more important. I can assemble Lego any time.” Yibo kisses him back.

They lose themselves in that for a while, chasing breath and tongue back and forth, and Xiao Zhan only half closes his eyes, watching Yibo watch him as they make out. One of Xiao Zhan’s favorite things is just making out with Yibo whether they’re joined or not. Both are good in different ways.

Yibo rubs the curve of his ass and the tendrils keep Xiao Zhan snugged up to him tight so that he won’t slip out even as he gets soft.

As they keep kissing, Xiao Zhan wonders if they’re going to go another round, long and slow, but at last Yibo breaks the kiss and pets his tailbone. He pulls out with care, pressing his fingers against Xiao Zhan’s rim as he slips free.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “Did they feed you on the set?”

Xiao Zhan nods. “They fed me hours ago; I’m hungry again.”

“Want me to make you some dumplings?” Yibo offers. “Or heat up some takeout?”

It’s the two things Yibo is allowed to do in the kitchen unsupervised, after Xiao Zhan has laughingly beheld a few of his cooking attempts. He also has a stunning indifference toward it because he’s always been taken care of, in some form or another, since he was taken in by Yuehua and working toward his debut.

“No, I can make something.” Xiao Zhan stretches for a kiss and they don’t end up leaving the bed right away.

Some time later, beyond the reach of a watch or the phones they’ve set aside, Xiao Zhan wanders into the kitchen in his short silk robe that goes to mid-thigh and opens the fridge, scanning its contents. He’s home more often than Yibo these days, though his schedule is far from empty. He takes care to curate the fridge to make sure there’s enough for a few meals always on hand. It’s not that he’s opposed to takeout every so often, but he tries to eat healthy more often than not. Yibo has a high metabolism and less to worry about, always burning energy on the job, but Xiao Zhan has had to watch his figure for a couple of years now.

Yibo joins him in skimpy shorts and his tank top with the deep slits up the back that allow for all of his accessory limbs to move freely. Xiao Zhan has tried to encourage apron-wearing a few times, but Yibo always insists they look cuter on him and the neck of the apron usually catches across the sockets for his throat chakra tendrils.

“Do you have a taste for something?” Xiao Zhan glances over his shoulder to catch sight of a very particular leer as Yibo leans both elbows back against the counter. True to form one teal solar plexus tendril is reaching for him, curling over his hip in an affectionately possessive caress. “Wang Yibo, you cannot possibly still be horny!”

Baseline level of horny is one tentacle, Xiao Zhan has to remind himself. 

Yibo simply raises a brow at him. “Nothing in particular,” he replies. “As long as it’s quick, so I can take Zhan-ge back to bed.”

Xiao Zhan tries not to flush. Really, he does, but he’s helpless to Yibo whether he’s being ridiculously corny or impossibly smooth, or somewhere in between. He giggles instead, pets the tentacle curled at his hip, and pulls out some refrigerated rice to make a simple stir fry dish. No matter what he makes, Yibo is going to end up pouring a good amount of vinegar into it. Well, maybe not fried rice.

He moves around the kitchen and Yibo moves closer so that his accessory limbs can help, taking a wok out for him, reaching for cooking chopsticks, nudging soy sauce and garlic within reach.

One of his side projects has been trying to teach Yibo to cook. He’s not completely hopeless; he can follow a detailed recipe or very precise instructions. Mostly, though, Xiao Zhan thinks it’s a shame that Yibo has so many ‘hands’ to help out in the kitchen that haven’t been put to good use.

Yibo hovers behind him and occasionally a teal limb moves past Xiao Zhan to assist. He especially appreciates when a heart chakra tentacle reaches past him to shake the wok so the rice won’t stick while he’s rushing to chop vegetables to throw into the pan. 

“Shouldn’t you have done the vegetables first?” Yibo asks, peering over his shoulder.

“These are par-cooked,” Xiao Zhan replies absently. “They only need to be heated in the wok with everything else.”

“Hmm.” Yibo responds with a considering noise. He stands back and watches, and next time Xiao Zhan turns to get something out of the fridge, his eyes go over him from the open throat of his robe to his bare thighs. “What do you need?”

“Ah…” Xiao Zhan is caught by Yibo’s eyes on him. Usually there’s at least a faint, assured smile on his face when he’s regarding him, but right now he only looks serious, appraising, and it’s incredibly sexy. He bites his lip. “I forgot?”

Now Yibo grins. “Focus, Xiao Zhan.” There’s a hint of teasing lilt in his voice.

Xiao Zhan raises his brows, but he does remember what he was going to grab. “The peas. Unless you don’t want some?” 

Yibo’s left heart chakra tentacle cracks the fridge open and both it and the solar plexus one balance the small bowl of peas between them, bearing it toward him.

With a smile, Xiao Zhan accepts it. “Thank you,” he says to the tendrils, and they both nudge in to caress him before withdrawing.

He finishes making their meal; by the end of it, there are two tendrils wrapped around his waist, one around his thigh, and another curled around his shoulders. Xiao Zhan is half expecting dinner to get cut short because the amount of horny has risen well above baseline, but they settle together on the couch, Xiao Zhan nestled in the embrace of fully half of Yibo’s tendrils. He bends over his bowl to make sure he doesn’t miss any grains of rice and can’t help but glance over to gauge Yibo’s reaction.

Yibo nods and digs into his food with a pleased hum.

Xiao Zhan grins and bumps his shoulder.

Yibo chuckles between bites. “Don’t start that, or I’ll have to pin you and I can’t guarantee the safety of the food at that point.”

Xiao Zhan widens his eyes and hugs his bowl defensively to his chest, shoveling rice into his mouth faster.

Yibo’s laugh is loud and unrestrained.

When they finish, Yibo takes their bowls to the kitchen. He’s the one who cleans up, by his own insistence. Any meal that Xiao Zhan makes when they’re home together, he does the dishes after. It’s part of the give and take of their relationship that really settled Xiao Zhan after they started co-habitating. 

The greater part of his hesitation had been that Yibo was very much a boy, that he was very young, and it had been that more than the prospect of being his first real relationship that had worried Xiao Zhan. The more he’d gotten to know him, though, the more Yibo had revealed himself past that boyish exterior that play-fought with him, vied for his attention in every way large or small, and made him chase after Xiao Zhan, beaming more widely than the sun.

Yibo was in truth a deeply serious person, and he only showed that inner boy to the people he felt truly comfortable with. He took care in all that he did, he had an incredible, fierce focus, a strong sense of responsibility, a work ethic every bit as steely as Xiao Zhan’s, and he sought balance in their relationship. He knew the places where he was weak or felt he couldn’t carry his weight and sought to fill in and be strong in other ways.

For instance, Xiao Zhan had thought Yibo would be messy; that if he moved in, he’d be constantly cleaning up after a kid used to living on his own as he liked. He had never once had to pick up after Yibo’s things. Yibo was relentlessly tidy and it had even gotten Xiao Zhan improving his own habits.

“Did you check the mail yet?” Xiao Zhan asks, trying to gently extricate himself from the embrace of the four tendrils that have kept a grip on him as Yibo does the dishes.

The teal limbs give a flex but let him go. Xiao Zhan pats them as a fond _later_ and makes his way around the counter. Their assistants do mail pick-up for them and sort out all of the essentials, leaving only the things they actually need to see in the inbox beside the door. He noticed a small pile on his way in earlier so there must have been a mail drop Yibo hasn’t had time to get to yet.

He picks up the pile and absently starts sorting through it; Yibo, Yibo, him, Yibo, him, him, Yibo, an envelope from—with a gasp, he freezes and the entire pile of mail slips from his nerveless fingers.

“Zhan-ge?”

The note of panic reaches him through the roar in his ears. Xiao Zhan stares at the mail falling at his feet, his eyes fixated on the slow-motion revolutions of the top most envelope with the return address that made him drop everything in his hands. Yibo is rounding the corner from the kitchen, eyes wide, concern on his face, all eight teal limbs bristling in a defensive posture.

“What is it? What happened?” Yibo looks at him and his hands frozen in an outstretched posture, looks at the mail, and no less than three tentacles make a beeline for the mail, snatching it all up and bringing it to his hands.

He puts most of it aside on the counter and holds up the big, plain white envelope in his hands. “Ah.” All eight of his tendrils slump.

“They can’t,” Xiao Zhan says, finding his voice. He steps closer. It’s Yibo’s arm, rather than his solar plexus tendril, that reaches out and pulls him close to his side, but two tendrils loop immediately around his thighs and the solar plexus one goes around his waist for good measure and they hug him like they’re seeking comfort. “They can’t do this.”

“They probably can,” Yibo says, tearing the envelope open with a finger rather than sending an accessory limb to find the letter opener.

The envelope is from “The CPF Special Services M.D.”—short for Mutant Division—and Xiao Zhan has been dreading this day and hoping it would never come in equal measure.

Yibo doesn’t suggest they take this to the couch. He’s quick. He pulls the letter out. It’s short, Xiao Zhan can see; but he doesn’t even try to read it. He squeezes his eyes shut and prays.

Both of Yibo’s brows go up, and his tendrils shiver around Xiao Zhan.

“What is it?” Xiao Zhan demands, his arm going around Yibo in a tense hold. He won’t let him go. He’ll suggest they find a way to leave, to go to Taiwan or Canada. He won’t let the CPF conscript Yibo even if he has to abandon his entire life.

“They’ve reclassified me,” he says, holding the letter up closer to show it to Xiao Zhan, whose mind promptly becomes incapable of reading.

“Just tell me,” he says, voice high and thin.

“That’s it,” Yibo says. “I’ve been formally reclassified to B-rank after further review of my testing and footage that was re-evaluated prior to closing my file.”

“Closing…” Xiao Zhan grasps numbly onto that lifeline. They wouldn’t be closing his file if they had any intention of conscripting him.

“Yeah. They said they can’t use me for service. Too high profile.” Yibo’s mouth quirks. “They said I can work with my publicist if I want to go public with my mutation.”

“Oh,” Xiao Zhan says. His eyes widen and he leans in against Yibo, gulping in air. Another tendril slides around him, supporting him. He can breathe again. He’s nodding. “Oh. Yes. Yes, that makes sense.” It feels like his heart has re-started with a kick in his chest. He clings to Yibo.

Yibo hands the letter to a tendril and three of them fight for it, tearing it up. Pieces flutter to the floor and Xiao Zhan laughs, but he’s still clutching a hand to his chest.

“Nothing is going to take me from you,” Yibo says, low and soothing.

Xiao Zhan aligns himself so that he’s fully in Yibo’s arms, along with a few accessory appendages. He nods, nestling his head on Yibo’s shoulder. Yibo is the one who got this news, but he’s the one who needs comforting; he’s got to pull it together.

“You’re a B-rank!” he says in a brighter tone that he hopes doesn’t sound fake. “I always thought you were, from the first time I saw them in action.” He caresses one of the tendrils looped around his hips and it tightens appreciatively.

“There is _no_ need to worry anymore,” Yibo tells him. “They noticed the obvious; this face is way too recognized to work in any kind of public service capacity.”

Xiao Zhan nods but there’s still a tightness in his chest. He can’t stop clutching at the space over his heart, fingers digging into his skin. His eyes are smarting at the corners again but it’s not sexy and he just wants it to stop.

“Xiao Zhan,” Yibo says, fingers moving over his cheek. “It’s okay. What’s going to make you feel more secure?”

That makes Xiao Zhan wrinkle his nose and shake his head. “It’s not like your work doesn’t already take you away,” he says, reasoning to himself. “I already worry every time you leave for weeks and weeks.” He will not think about the shishengs; he’s resolute in compartmentalizing that away from them.

Yibo’s fingers curl under his jaw. “Marry me?”

Xiao Zhan’s eyes fly up to meet his. “Yibo?!”

Yibo’s mouth trembles between a smirk and a tense line. “It’ll make you feel settled, won’t it? You’ll know I’m always coming home to you. That this is serious. For me, I already know you’re the only one I want.”

His heart resolves into a peaceful thudding and he smiles. He recognizes the level of nervousness in the quick flick Yibo’s tongue delivers to his lip and the light skim of fingers along his side before they rest feather-light on his waist above the tendril curved across his belly. “I want to marry you, Yibo,” Xiao Zhan replies, and Yibo’s posture relaxes, his mouth curving up. “I just…I wish that we could. I would, you know. You’re ‘it’ for me.” He didn’t need more years to know what he wanted.

Someday, when things slowed down for one or both of them, they would have the time and privacy to be everything they wanted to each other. For now, he reveled in their successes, they sustained one another through the hardships, and if that wasn’t all he could ask of partnership then he couldn’t imagine better.

Yibo’s brow creases. “Like hell, we can’t,” he said. “Didn’t we already do our three bows?”

Xiao Zhan smacks his shoulder. “That was for A-Ling! In character! Full costume and makeup, even. That doesn’t count.” He gives his boyfriend—fiancé?—a reproachful look.

“We can do our three bows with intention right now, if you want,” Yibo offers. He’s definitely leering. “We can do it in front of your parents, even.”

Xiao Zhan goes deadweight, burying his face against the crook of Yibo’s shoulder. He whines wordlessly. A couple more tendrils loop around him, stroking his back. He’s going to die of embarrassment.

“We can conference them right now,” Yibo adds, shuffling them sideways toward where his phones are sitting on the counter.

“What? Right now? No! I’m not mentally prepared!” Xiao Zhan wriggles out of Yibo’s and his tentacles’ embrace and snags Yibo’s iPhone, then his Redmi Pro for good measure, thinks about sticking them in his armpits, then throws them at the couch. They bounce against a cushion separately from each other and he breathes a sigh of relief.

Yibo is definitely smirking over at him when Xiao Zhan settles back into his arms. “We’re already living together. What, were you expecting a long engagement?”

Xiao Zhan compresses his lips and gives him a stare, but he realizes about ten seconds in that he’s wearing contacts, still, so he’s definitely going to blink and Yibo will win anyhow. He sighs. “We don’t even have a ring. Rings.”

“We can fix that tomorrow and you know it,” Yibo says. He’s smug. His voice is smug. His face is smug. He’s just radiating smugness. “Do you want Chow Tai Fook or Wallace Chan?”

All Xiao Zhan can do is smile helplessly, because Yibo is adorable when he’s smug.

“You said yes.” Yibo hugs him around the waist. “I’m savoring it. And also not letting you forget it.”

Xiao Zhan pushes at his chest, but he’s smiling harder. “Shut up, it’s not like we can get a marriage certificate.”

“I’m going to marry you with my intention; who cares about a certificate?” Yibo raises his brows. One hand smooths up Xiao Zhan’s silky robe. For a second his smug expression cracks and reveals wonder; the heartbreaking glimpse of uncertainty that he can have this, that he’s allowed.

Xiao Zhan surges forward and palms the back of his neck with care, between the throat chakra tendrils. He places a kiss to the hinge of Yibo’s jaw. “So, does this mean we’re inviting our parents for a private ceremony?”

That makes Yibo go stiff and Xiao Zhan guides him to the couch, though he’s going to maneuver them to make sure he can’t get hold of either phone in case he’s serious about a conference call on the spot. “Our parents?” he echoes. His eyes are wary. “That means you’re letting me claim them as mine, too, right?”

They sit on the couch together, and Xiao Zhan is in the embrace of eight tendrils as well as two strong arms, but the look Yibo is giving him is anything but sex. “Yes; they already regard you as another son, you know that,” he replies, dotting a quick kiss on Yibo’s frowning mouth.

“And?” Yibo prompts, his plump lips flattening into a line for a fraction of a second before he pulls a slight pout. 

He should know better than to ask questions when he already knows Xiao Zhan’s answer. Xiao Zhan strokes the smooth muscle to either side of his spine, the strip between his accessory sockets, and holds his gaze. “You don’t think you should tell your parents about something this important?”

Yibo’s head gives a little jerk and he looks away. “They didn’t want to hear from me anymore; I’ve honored their wishes, haven’t I?”

Xiao Zhan bends a very gentle look on him, all too aware of what a sore spot this is for Yibo. “You haven’t reached out to them after leaving in anger. And how could they, now? Surely, they’ve got too much pride to contact their very famous, very rich son.”

That made Yibo pull in a harsh breath, head rearing back.

“How would that look to you?” Xiao Zhan pressed, ruthless but as kind as he was capable of. “If they called you after your first big hit, or your first big role, or your first trending topic?”

Yibo bit his lip and his eyes slid to the side. “Like they only cared now that I was famous.”

Xiao Zhan nodded. “No matter how much they might have regretted it, how could they possibly reach out now?”

Yibo sighed. He shook his head, meeting Xiao Zhan’s gaze. “You didn’t…you weren’t there. You can’t know what their reactions were when…” His blue accessory appendages flexed around Xiao Zhan before shivering against his skin.

“No, I wasn’t there,” Xiao Zhan said softly, easing his hands from Yibo’s spine to draw along a few of his limbs, petting them. “And it’s true, I can’t imagine not loving these right along with loving you. But, for other people, sometimes they need time to process, okay? They didn’t get a chance, then you were gone and didn’t look back.”

Yibo’s jaw goes hard and for an instant Xiao Zhan thinks he’s lost him. Instead, he’s gathered up in a flurry of teal limbs that pull him close and slot their bodies together in an unyielding embrace. “How are you so good?” Yibo whispers against his ear, his voice trembling with the tears he won’t let Xiao Zhan see.

Xiao Zhan holds him just as tightly in return. He huffs softly. “I just give people the grace I want them to extend to me.”

Yibo nods against his shoulder and simply holds him for a moment. When he pulls back, his eyes are shiny but he’s smiling a little and his face is full of resolve.

“Okay?” Xiao Zhan asks, wanting to nudge forward for a kiss, but attuned to Yibo’s signals.

“I’ll _try_ ,” he says, a thread of dubiousness behind his determination.

Xiao Zhan gives him a small nod to acknowledge it. “That’s all you can do.” He wants to kiss Yibo so badly. “The rest is up to them, you know?”

Yibo closes the gap and kisses him, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth, setting his teeth on the bottom edge to tug ever so gently, and sealing his lips over Xiao Zhan’s. He kisses him until he’s the only thing that Xiao Zhan can think of. He lays him back against the pillows behind him, tendrils moving and caressing over his skin, over his robe. A couple sneak up the hem of his robe like he won’t notice and he grins into the kiss.

When Yibo breaks it, both their mouths are wet and Yibo has that gleam in his eye.

Even if things don’t work out—even if Yibo’s parents find they can accept him, mutation and all, but can’t put up with his choice of partner—Xiao Zhan believes it’s worth the effort. Family is important, and Yibo will at least try, before they take their bows.

That’s all he can ask.

“Hey,” Yibo says, tugging at his robe. It’s very flimsy, so of course the silk belt makes the whole thing come open with one tug. The grin he gives Xiao Zhan is absolutely filthy. “Want to go have some pre-marital sex?”

Xiao Zhan caresses the two teal limbs settled at his hips. “With my fiancé, Wang Yibo?” he teases back, but his grin is bright. His heart is secure.

The answer to that is Yibo and his accessory limbs scooping him up from the couch into the most secure bridal carry anyone’s ever had and they head straight back to the bedroom. Xiao Zhan gives a joyous laugh.

Yibo’s right; they don’t need a piece of paper to prove their relationship is tight.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m undecided whether I want to write more or leave them here, happy and hopeful for the future.
> 
> As always, please do leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed.
> 
> You can find me on Twitter at [@bounddreamer](https://twitter.com/bounddreamer) where I like to post pics of these boys, my cats, food, and talk about all of the above plus video games. WangXian (and BJYX) thirst hours are 24/7.


End file.
